Round and Round the Garden
by Besina
Summary: John remembers a conversation and asks a question Sherlock is hesitant to answer. Friendship/Fluff


John was sitting in his chair, his forehead thoughtfully scrunched.

Sherlock gazed at him appraisingly. John sometimes reflected on things or basked in memories, but rarely did he engage in any deep thinking, at least not when relaxing at home. He was doing so now - pondering something.

This made Sherlock unaccountably nervous. John really only ever wracked his brain when he was trying to figure out something about _Sherlock_...

"Sherlock?" John broke his reverie, his eyes rising to meet the detective's.

_Oh bloody hell. Here it comes._

"Mm?" He tried to sound indifferent.

"Remember when you first told me about your 'hard drive' and deleting stuff from it - irrelevant stuff, y'know, like the solar system?"

"Oh God, not this again..._What of it?_" The exasperation was evident.

"Well, when you were explaining, you said it hardly matters that we go around the sun; you said 'we could orbit the moon, or go 'round and 'round the garden, like a teddy-bear,' if I remember right."

"Yes, I did say that. Your point being?" An eyebrow was raised sardonically at this point, waiting to become devastating at the slightest provocation.

"Well, you deleted the entire solar system as drivel, but it surprises me that you somehow kept a knowledge of nursery rhymes. You know, the teddy bear bit..." John shifted uncomfortably as he noticed the flush of embarrassment beginning to rise on his friend's cheeks as Sherlock tried not to be noticeably flustered.

"Um," Sherlock coughed, vying for time and desperately seeking an explanation that might pass muster.

"Why, Sherlock? Why retain nursery rhymes, which are undoubtedly trite when compared to the solar system?"

Sherlock ducked his head for a moment before rising and attempting an awful last-minute diversion, "Tea?"

John bowed his head, lifting his brows and directing his gaze at Sherlock repremandingly, "Sherlock..."

John was not going to let up on this, Sherlock turned back toward him, haltingly. He had a few choices: a) ignore the question entirely, though it was unlikely John would let go of it that easily now that he realised Sherlock was hiding something; b) pitch a fit and storm off - something that John was no doubt used to, but which was likely only to delay the inevitable, unlikely to dissuade John for long; or c) face the music, explain and get the painful bit over with. Sherlock was all for procrastinating, but the logical step was to just get it out of the way.

He drew in a long breath, suddenly found the carpet fascinating and muttered all at once, "It'sadistraction."

"Come again?" John had lifted a hand to his ear._ Balls_.

He straightened up, looked John in the eye and repeated himself, more clearly this time.

"A distraction? From what? And why..."

"It's from my childhood," Sherlock cut him off, still speaking quickly, but not quite letting the words all pile up against each other this time.

"I've always had trouble containing my thoughts when there's been nothing to focus on. It was particularly difficult when I was in school and all the subject matter and _people_ were dreadfully tedious. I had nothing to engage my faculties. As you might guess, I was a terror until Mycroft one day pulled _that_ on me - I was still quite young - and found it distracted me, particularly when he tickled me." He could feel his cheeks burning.

John's eyebrows rose and he merely said, "Ah!" then the subject, much to Sherlock's relief, was dropped.

* * *

Time passed in the usual way, case upon case, one blog entry after another until one day, having been caseless for a number of them previously, Sherlock was pacing, complaining loudly, and threatening dire action unless something happened soon to relieve his incredible ennui.

John looked up and watched his progress back and forth across the sitting room patiently.

"Sherlock, just call Lestrade."

"I've already texted him four times! He's got nothing!"

"The blog?"

"Nothing interesting on there either."

"Perhaps you could take the dull ones?" John suggested hopefully.

This just earned him a disgusted sneer as the detective kept up his pacing.

_Well, there was nothing for it then._ John meticulously folded his paper and set it aside, rising slowly.

Sherlock fixed him with a look, uncertain if John was going for tea, or preparing to storm out of the flat.

Seconds later, a shriek of laughter echoed down the stairs as John unexpectedly tackled Sherlock onto the couch, pinning the detective down, and tickling him mercilessly.

Mrs Hudson looked up, relieved to hear sounds of laughter coming from the flat, rather than chambers being emptied into her wall.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a quiet office near the heart of London, the British Government cracked a small smile at the video feed and felt a bit nostalgic.

* * *

Notes:

Kudos are lovely, feedback is love!  
Concrit and Brit-picking always welcome!

If you have a favourite line or scene, I'd love to know about it.

Translation permissions and restrictions are located at the bottom of my AO3 profile for those who are interested.

Note: For those who aren't from the UK, a bit more about that particular nursery rhyme (and what it has to do with tickling) can be found at Wikipedia. I know in the US, I didn't even hear of it until I was 17 and my lovely Kiwi boyfriend got me with it!


End file.
